


wise men say

by CiaranthePage



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Feelings Realization, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiaranthePage/pseuds/CiaranthePage
Summary: "only fools rush inbut I can't help falling in love with you.shall I stay?"Sloane gets hurt, Hurley brings her home, and everyone needs a little help getting through the night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title + summary quote from "can't help falling in love" bcus i'm sappy (the version that was stuck in my head while writing is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZkih54evUs), i think)  
> these girls are very important to me and at this rate i'm going to write their entire relationship.  
> (one day)  
> hope you enjoy <3

Deep breaths. She had to take deep breaths. Hurley curled up with her knees to her chest, peering out from under her ram skull mask at the mattress on the floor across the room from her. She had to keep calm for Sloane's sake.

 

The cleric at Sloane’s side stood up, brushing off his knees. “She will be just fine,” he assured Hurley with a smile. “A little rest and salve on the stomach wound every morning and she will be up and racing before you know it.”

 

Hurley stood, swaying on her feet. Her own wounds were acting up a little, but she had to check on Sloane and she could heal herself later. She stumbled over to where Sloane was, sitting down and looking over her. She trusted the cleric, yes, but something in her was telling her over and over to check herself and make  _sure_. Watch over her until she was okay again (she felt like she should have been questioning it, but disregarded the thought). She took Sloane’s hand in her own; it was just slightly too cold, even for her.

 

The cleric frowned as he watched Hurley try to adjust her sitting position to be comfortable. “You need medical attention as well,” he said.

 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Hurley insisted, not looking up at him. “I don’t have the money to pay you for both of us. I’ll do it.”

 

“Nonsense. I will not charge extra,” the cleric said. “I am not short on gold after races, I have no need to ask of you more than you can give.”

 

He put a hand on Hurley’s head before she could protest; divine magic poured over her and eased the pain that had been gathering behind her eyes and at the base of her spine. She slumped with a sigh of relief. “I put the gold for Sloane in a pouch over by the door,” she said, still holding Sloane’s hand.

 

“Thank you. I wish her a quick recovery.”

 

The sound of the coin pouch jingle and the click of the side door to the garage signaled his departure. The lights weren’t on, so Hurley found them blanketed in the shadow of early evening, the setting sun casting a glow over the floor on the opposite side of the room. She wished there was silence, but she could hear her own struggling breaths and Sloane’s mellowed ones as clear as the roar of a battlewagon. Sloane rolled onto her side and curled into a ball with a soft sigh, not dislodging her hand from Hurley’s.

 

Hurley couldn’t shake the feeling that this was her fault. It had only been her fourth race, but winning the previous two had left her cocky. She remembered Sloane warning her not to get too excited through a teasing grin and hip check. Her taunting screams at another wagon. The glint of a spear sailing through the air and her stupid, stupid attempt to dodge. Sloane swearing at the top of her lungs as the spear tore across her and sliced a thick line into her stomach. Hurley’s weak attempts to heal that hardly did fucking  _anything_.

 

Hurley bit back the feelings. She couldn’t get overwhelmed when Sloane needed her. She had to get her somewhere to rest, somewhere better than the mattress they used to take quick naps while staying in the garage for extended periods of time. She needed to get Sloane to an actual  _bed_.

 

She didn’t know where Sloane’s apartment was. Or if she even lived in her own place at all. Shit.

 

 _Take her in_ , whispered the dying officer-voice in her head. _She won’t even know. She'll be safe and this will all be over._

 

“No,” Hurley snapped to herself, shaking her head. “I can't do that to her.”

 

She stood before the voice could come back and pulled off her mask. It landed with a soft  _clunk_ in her box of spares; Sloane’s mask was off shortly after, set more gently atop her own pile. Standing in the middle of the garage, Hurley looked out the window and tried to figure out the best way to get Sloane to her own apartment.

 

It was her only choice, really. Sloane needed rest, Hurley couldn’t leave her alone in the garage, and Hurley needed to get home. She couldn’t carry Sloane the whole way, but… the rolling cart for transporting larger parts for the battlewagons could probably fit a sleeping half-elf. It’d fit the mattress before -- that was how they’d got it into the garage in the first place. Hurley pulled it out from under the wagon and pushed it to Sloane’s side.

 

Maneuvering the mattress onto the cart took longer and involved more moving Sloane than Hurley would’ve liked, but she got it done and nudged it out the door before locking everything up. She threw a tarp over the cart, tucking it under the edges for security as best as she could without revealing the outline of Sloane (that would look very, _very_ bad). They rolled through the backroads to Hurley’s apartment, sandy footsteps and the creak of the cart slowly blending into the never-quite-ending buzz of the city proper. A few times Hurley stopped when Sloane seemed to stir, but whatever magic the cleric had used kept her fast asleep.

 

Hurley parked the cart in the bushes behind the building and used the tarp to wrap Sloane in a more easily carried bundle. A rope hung out the back of the building, trailing up to Hurley’s window, just as she’d left it. No one else came around to this side; she lived just close enough to the rich sector that her neighbors didn’t like to come back and mess around in the earthy garden that had sprung up behind the building in fear of getting wet or dirty.

 

Perfect for someone regularly slipping out to go work on a pretty illegal battlewagon.

 

Once she’d secured Sloane to her back as best as she could, Hurley scaled the wall with practiced ease. The window creaked open just enough to pull both of them inside her living room. Hurley made a beeline for the bedroom; she untied Sloane and set her on the bed with a blanket and a few of her pillows, suddenly painfully aware of how much smaller she was compared to Sloane, which normally she spared little thought to. Her full-sized bed always felt too far, far big to her (especially in comparison to the rest of the apartment, which was more of a tight squeeze for a human), but Sloane fit on it with just enough room that someone Hurley’s size could curl up right next to her and sleep comfortably.

 

...which was a strange way to think about that, but Hurley pretended the thought hadn’t come and left the room.

 

She wrote a note to Sloane explaining what happened and set it on the bedside table in her line of sight to make sure she didn’t freak out. She could sleep on the couch, she figured as the exhaustion started to set in. Wouldn’t be the first time. Her footsteps grew slower as she trekked across the apartment and never made it to the couch, and instead fell to her knees and passed out in the middle of the living room.

 

She woke up to someone’s hand on her shoulder and a voice asking, “Hurley?”

 

It made her heart do a little flip but Hurley’s sleep-addled brain couldn’t place it until she turned and opened her eyes. The glow of faerie fire outside cast a glow over Sloane’s face, wrinkled in concern and red-ringed eyes highlighted in the golden glow. Her ears were turned down toward her shoulders, stuck straight back. The glow surrounded her head and made her look otherworldly. She was half-drow, Hurley faintly remembered. Absolutely beautiful.

 

(Wait, what?)

 

“Hurley, what are you doing on the floor?” Sloane asked.

 

“Fell asleep?” Hurley mumbled.

 

“On the  _floor_? You have a couch.”

 

“‘m really tired.”

 

Sloane sighed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “C’mon, you need to get in a bed.”

 

“Noo, no, it’s fine --”

 

Hurley was interrupted by Sloane scooping her up bridal style and walking toward the bedroom. She set Hurley on the bed, Hurley righted herself so she was sitting up, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Sloane crossed her arms, face stern. “Go to sleep,” she said. “Or I’ll… I don’t know, just go to sleep.”

 

Still dazed, even sitting up Hurley was swaying on the bed, struggling to find any words to counter. Sloane’s arms dropped, her face losing its anger. She sat on the bed across from Hurley, legs crossed. “I’ll wait here until you do,” she said.

 

They sat in silence. Hurley’s brain started to fall back asleep, eyes fluttering.

 

She lurched forward. Her last snatch of consciousness let her feel herself fall onto something warm and get moved to her side, and then she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _would it be a sin_   
>  _if I can't help falling in love with you?_   
>  _like a river flows_   
>  _surely to the sea_   
>  _darling, so it goes_   
>  _some things are meant to be_

Hurley’s head was in her lap. Shit.

 

Sloane hadn’t been expecting  _that_. She wanted Hurley to sleep, yes, because Hurley had run herself literally and figuratively into the ground. Her original plan had just been to sit there until Hurley actually fell asleep. But now she had Hurley partially cradled in her lap and, somehow, she’d turned her on her side before she’d fallen completely asleep so of  _course_ , Hurley was sleeping like a rock. She was trapped, both by Hurley’s head and by the warm buzzing feeling in her chest that intensified each time she stole a glance at Hurley’s sleeping face. Her fingers combed through her short carrot curls and fluffed them up like she’d done it a thousand times. Thoughts drifted through, all centering around the snoring halfling in her lap and the kindness that drove her to bring Sloane somewhere safe to rest.

 

She looked so peaceful. She snored, just a little, and took ahold of Sloane’s shirt when it slid into her reach, holding onto the hem like a lifeline. Sloane chuckled, teasing the edges of her hair into the air with a smile on her face. She felt the sensation of a purr rise in her chest and then fall when something occurred to her.

 

...this wasn’t supposed to happen.

 

Her thoughts turned to panic. She knew what was happening, and it wasn’t supposed to go this way. Hurley was a cop. _The_  cop. The one hunting Sloane every free on-the-clock moment she had to bring the notorious thief The Raven to justice. Fuck, they hardly ever  _saw_ each other outside of the garage, races, or those brief moments in chases where Hurley would get far too close for Sloane’s comfort.

 

(Those had been so rare, lately; she almost missed the thrill of being so close to being caught.)

 

She was the cop hunting Sloane and she could probably have taken her to prison that night but she  _hadn’t_ , she cared enough about Sloane to take her to a proper bed and pass out on the floor, and a stab of fear stilled Sloane’s fingers in Hurley’s hair. She pulled her hands away to wipe the tears starting to trickle down her face.

 

Sloane wasn’t supposed to like Hurley like this.

 

On the track, sure. Hurley was the best partner she'd ever had. A certain amount of respect was necessary for working together. In the garage, maybe. Working on projects naturally brings people closer. Off the track, she wasn't supposed to feel a familiar (but not too familiar) bubble of comfort nestling in her chest while sitting on Hurley's bed with her head in her lap as she slept. The Raven could love the Ram, but she had no need for such attachments. Sloane could not fall in love with Hurley, but she so desperately craved the feeling.

 

But Sloane did fall in love. She knew once she left the apartment she’d count the days until she could see Hurley.

 

The tears kept coming. This was going to kill her. She was going to keep falling in love with Hurley, Hurley would find out, she'd leave Sloane “for your own good,” and Sloane's newly repaired heart would shatter on the floor. She'd done it again. And just like before, she cried silent tears, ears at her shoulders and hands wet.

 

“Sloane?”

 

Her voice was weak as if Hurley was still mostly asleep. Sloane's hands shot away from her face. Hurley was looking up at her with half-lidded eyes and a tiny frown. She reached up and brushed the side of Sloane's face, mumbling, “You're crying.”

 

Sloane wiped her face. “Don't worry about it,” she said. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“But you're crying…”

 

“It's nothing, Hurley, real--”

 

Hurley pushed herself up on one arm and kissed the bottom of Sloane's jaw before falling asleep on her shoulder. The tears still trickled down her face, but her racing mind was silenced, full of only a whisper: had that actually just happened? She could feel the ghost of the kiss on her jaw and the snoring was much closer to her ear. Her lap was warm, full of sleeping halfling. The kiss hadn't even been on the lips, but her heart still raced.

 

She wrapped her arms around Hurley and nestled her face in her hair. She was in too deep. This wasn't supposed to happen, but hell if Sloane was going to let her go now that it had.

 

Hurley tightened her grip on Sloane in her sleep, mumbling incoherently. Sloane shushed her and kissed her forehead; was she having a nightmare? Sloane hoped she wasn't. Hurley didn't deserve to be haunted by nightmares.

 

But who knew what she'd seen?

 

Sloane started to rock her in her lap when the mumbling grew panicked, humming old lullabies and keeping her arms tightly wound around her. She didn't know what was going on, but this usually worked on the children she took care of on occasion, so maybe it'd work on her.  Hurley buried her face in Sloane's shoulder, the mumbling replaced with twitches and the occasional hitch in her breath. She stilled, and Sloane stopped rocking, waiting and hoping she was fine.

 

She woke with a shout instead

 

Hurley's eyes shot open, her body trying to throw itself back but caught by Sloane's grip. She started shivering, eyes unfocused and pointing straight ahead. Sloane hid her own shaking by starting to rock again and singing in Elvish instead of Common. Elvish was more calming, right? Especially if the person hearing the song didn't know the language. Bit by bit, Hurley relaxed. Her eyes tuned in, dropped to her lap and then squeezed shut. She took a few deep breaths and let Sloane keep rocking her.

 

“...I'm sorry,” Hurley whispered. “And. Thank you for staying.”

 

“You don't have to apologize,” Sloane replied, pretending her voice didn't crack. “Why wouldn't I stay?”

 

“Because you don't have to pretend you like me,” Hurley said, pressing closer to Sloane despite the words. “And… I'm. I'm the reason you got hurt today.”

 

Sloane's blood ran cold and the new wave of tears from her eyes ran warm. “I'm not pretending,” she choked out, moving one hand to brush them away. “Hurley, you. You saved my life out there. If it'd been just me…”

 

Hurley made a noise that suggested she didn't quite believe what Sloane was saying but made no attempt to counter it. The sun slipped into Hurley's window as they sat curled into each other, silence broken only by the movements of a neighbor and the sounds of their breathing. Sloane didn't want this moment to ever end. She was crying and Hurley was trembling but they were together and that's all she ever could have hoped for.

 

A knock from the front door made Hurley stir. A voice called for her, reminding her to get up, and though she didn't leave Hurley sat up and it broke the moment. “I have to go,” she whispered. “Don't. Don't forget to clean the wound and put some salve on it when you get up.”

 

“...you're not going to make me leave?” Sloane asked. She sounded so  _small_ , enough to make her wince at the sound of her own voice.

 

“I couldn't do that,” Hurley said, shaking her head. She opened her mouth to as if to expand, but shut it and followed instead with, “Stay as long as you need to.”

 

Sloane let her get up and go about getting ready. She sat on the bed by herself, numbly watching Hurley move around and don her all too familiar uniform gi. Sloane didn't want to see her like that ever again, she thought with a bitter taste on her tongue. Not writhing from nightmares or on Sloane's heels trying to bring her in. She just wanted Hurley to come sit in her arms and sleep.

 

Fuck.

 

Hurley finished by running a thin comb through her hair and taking a deep breath. She turned back to Sloane and crawled onto the bed, sitting on her knees in front of her. “I'll see you soon,” she said.

 

She sat forward and let her lips brush Sloane's and squeaked when Sloane pushed back, connecting them fully. The kiss was chaste, less than Sloane would've liked, but Hurley still looked at her with stars in her eyes and a grin twitched across her face when Sloane said, “I'll see you soon, too.”

 

Hurley left her there with a shy wave. Sloane touched her lips, her heart racing again.

 

She never wanted to leave this apartment again and Hurley seemed to agree.

 

She'd have to figure out how to help around the place once she'd cleaned up and tended to her wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the [tumblr post](http://thegempage.tumblr.com/post/170733957898/wise-men-say-chapter-1-ciaranthepage-the) if you'd like to rb my work!! if you do, thank you so much for the extra exposure!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! if you wanna yell at/talk to me about this fic, any of my other fics, taz, or about requests/prompts, hmu on tumblr @ thegempage or on twitter @achillopal !


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